[She's dead silent walking through these woods, like she grew up in them and they're odd nerve-or-fungal extensions of her body. Like if she twitched her nose just right she could make the trees hop, or grow a little taller. Occasionally she brushes a trunk with the backs of her knuckles, as though asking it a question.]
[There is a small army of beetles moving north. She follows them carefully without treading on a single one, her steps light and precise. And there is Dillon, at the center of a maelstrom of order. She can't help but smile as she approaches. He looks so sad.]
spam
[There is a small army of beetles moving north. She follows them carefully without treading on a single one, her steps light and precise. And there is Dillon, at the center of a maelstrom of order. She can't help but smile as she approaches. He looks so sad.]
Dillon. Sit up.